


do i wanna know?

by BadOldWest



Category: The Grisha Trilogy - Leigh Bardugo
Genre: F/M, Greaser AU, idk ask nicely, maybe smut?
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-05-30
Updated: 2016-05-30
Packaged: 2018-07-11 02:11:10
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 603
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7021765
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BadOldWest/pseuds/BadOldWest
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>If he leaned across the counter and blew smoke in her face one more time while she was cleaning glasses, she would strangle him. She would throw a punch if he dared puff out a dragon-like breath of black smoke in her face. Or at least she would pour a milkshake over his impossibly pretty one. </p><p>1950's AU. Alina is a waitress. The Darkling is a greaser who is testing her nerves.</p>
            </blockquote>





	do i wanna know?

If he leaned across the counter and blew smoke in her face one more time while she was cleaning glasses, she would strangle him. She would throw a punch if he dared puff out a dragon-like breath of black smoke in her face. Or at least she would pour a milkshake over his impossibly pretty one. 

Not that she thought about him that way. It was more another reason to hate him. Unfairly pretty. 

It was far, far too late in her shift to have to deal with this sort of thing. And she hoped the frothy pink slime that coated her hands would ruin that stupid leather jacket. Muss up that slicked back black hair. 

He was a bastard, she had declared to herself and to the quiet fry cook, David, who had barely nodded in agreement. 

She'd tried to be polite to him, plastering on her best "Can I help you?" smile and setting her teeth on edge as he took a very long moment to acknowledge the question. Just stared at her, breathing out black smoke, eyes on her face. Silent. Wasting her time. 

"Depends."

Her nose curled. Strong silent type. Oh joy. 

"Cheeseburgers are good. Coffees fresh brewed. I'd be happy to grab you something."

All of these statements were lies. Practiced lies. 

"I've been looking for you."

This was new. She narrowed her eyebrows at him. He was slouched on his seat at the counter, arms folded. Cigarette smell ever-present, but looking closer she did not see one lit in his hand. 

She glanced down at the rag in her hand. Again, smoke was puffing into her face. Not offensively, but enough to catch _all_ of her senses. 

"Why?"

She kept the pen poised over her order pad. If she was caught looking like she was making small talk on the clock, she was going to get in serious trouble. 

He had yet to prove if he was worth the trouble. 

The exposed end of the toothpick in his mouth did a slight rotation as he chewed it for a moment, drawing a circle in the air. 

"Now that I know where to find you, there's no rush."

"You use that line often?" she drawled, going back to drying off a glass.

 Zoya, a girl who was so pretty it seemed like a sin for her to be at this place at this time of night, cracked a tray full of half-empty glasses onto the counter where Alina was doing dishes. With a grumpy tired-of-this-shit nod of acknowledgement, she trudged past Alina to the kitchen to take her smoke break. Alina shot her eyes to the mysterious man, melted onto the seat in front of her like a grease spill. 

She contemplated upending one of those shakes onto his head. 

"Something funny?"

He recognized that she was smirking before she had. 

"Just laughing at myself."

"Are you that funny?"

"I'm hilarious." 

She finally smiled, more at herself than at him, but it was exposing something nonetheless. 

His lips pulled back from his canine teeth on one side, what she assumed to be his smile. More of a sneer. 

He slid a few bills across the counter towards her. Way overpaying for his coffee. 

"Hope to see more of that sense of humor. See you around."

She watched him in the parking lot through the big windows at the front of the diner. He glanced over her shoulder after he got on his bike, to make a point of catching her. 

Her face was red when she went back to those dishes. 

The bastard rode a motorcycle. How perfect. 

**Author's Note:**

> This...is the result of listening to too much Arctic Monkeys. I've posted about this au on tumblr before. Got in a weird mood. Wrote this. Continue?


End file.
